


Last First Kiss

by Tirsh



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tirsh/pseuds/Tirsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little pointless McCollins fluff that I had to get out before my heart breaks on Monday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just some McCollins sweetness for my sweet lovely twitter ladies - especially Ellie and Deb who love Nick (and Andy) as much as I do. Thanks so much for your encouragement! 
> 
> Note - this is a reworking of one of my earliest fics for another fandom that hasn't been posted anywhere for quite some time - but if it sounds familiar that might be why. The circumstances and the premise remain the same - most of the rest has been rewritten. 
> 
> It was originally inspired by two songs - more about those at the end.

"You know," Nick said wearily, coming through the door and tossing his keys on the island, "If another building never comes down on me again, it will be too soon."

"Nick. It was a crate." Andy toed off her shoes as she shut the door behind them.

"Crate full of bricks," he sank down onto one corner of the couch, exhausted.

"Yes, Nick. If by 'bricks' you mean pottery," She rolled her eyes as she rummaged around in the freezer. She was trying to keep the frustration out of her voice but after a 12 hour shift, complete with a panic-filled half hour while they waited for ETF to secure the warehouse, followed by 2 hours in the emergency room, her patience was at a premium.

"Felt like a building," he grumbled, mostly to himself, as Andy padded down the hall to the bathroom. Two hours in the emergency room so some teenage doctor could tell him what he already knew – he had a serious concussion and his shoulder really fucking hurt, although "deeply bruised collarbone" was the official diagnosis. Whatever.

Andy handed him a bag of peas wrapped in a tea towel and set a glass of water and a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol on the end table within reach. They had given him something for pain at the hospital, so it was too soon to take anything else, but she knew once she sat down, she wasn't getting up again anytime soon if she could help it. "Thanks, babe."

"Can I make you something to eat?" She'd offered to make a quick stop on the way home but Nick had turned green at the suggestion so she just kept going.

"Not unless you want me to throw up again," he pouted.

"Really, Nick?” One eyebrow quirked in gentle reproach, “A simple 'no' would have sufficed."

"Sorry." He at least had the decency to look a little chagrined. Men. No matter how badass they seemed, they were all just one missing sock or a crate upside the head away from a whiny toddler. Not that a pouty Nick didn't have some appeal, but she was too busy being irritated to admit it right now. Because if she was irritated, she didn't have to acknowledge how terrified she had been during those moments of radio silence after the blast. Maybe later, with some time and distance she could process that, but for now, annoyed was working for her.

She grabbed her phone and a pair of earphones and settled herself on the couch, stretched out on her back with her head in his lap. She looked up at him, "This okay?"

"It's perfect," he turned on the TV and flipped through the channels until he settled on a soccer game, then, as was his habit, let his hand rest on her shoulder twirling his fingers in the ends of her hair.

So often after a long day, they ended up on the couch just like this, wanting, needing the reassurance that physical contact provided, while catching each other up, talking about their day. On other days, particularly after a tough call, words were scarce and the proximity was communication enough. Of course, sometimes they bypassed the couch entirely and headed straight for the bedroom to "not talk" about their day, but that option was officially off the table for the moment.

They relaxed in companionable silence for about half an hour, Andy absorbed in something on her phone and Nick trying to watch the soccer game. That is until he turned off the TV and tossed the remote on the end table in disgust.

Andy pulled one of her ear buds out, "What's the matter? Another scoreless tie?" she asked sarcastically. She loved hockey, enjoyed the odd football game, but she could not for the life of her understand his fascination with watching soccer. Playing? Yes. But watching? He was on his own there.

"No, it's making my head hurt," he sounded more 'annoyed grownup' than 'whiny toddler' so that was progress at least.

"Soccer always makes my head hurt," she grinned at him.

He half-laughed, "Yeah, you've made your feelings pretty clear on that subject." He tugged at the hem of her shirt so he could rest his hand on her bare stomach.

"Nick. Behave."

"Andy. This IS behaving," he teased. "Would you like me to show you the difference between this and misbehaving?"

"No, thanks." she replied quickly but he was apparently going to show her anyway as he started running his fingers across her stomach, making lazy shapes and tracing a path from hip bone to hip bone and back again.

She stilled his hand with her own, "Don't be starting something you're not allowed to finish."

"What does girl Doogie Howser M.D. know about anything anyway? Kid probably still has a curfew," he grumbled, "And nobody said anything about 'not allowed' she just said be careful."

"She said be careful not to exert yourself. You can't just pick and choose the parts of the sentence that work for you and forget the rest. You were out cold for half an hour Nick, you can't screw around with a concussion."

"Literally, apparently," he muttered.

"You know what I mean," she rolled her eyes in exasperation, “I should have let them keep you overnight like they wanted to.”

"Andy, I'm fine," now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"So you're good to go then?" When he nodded, she continued, "Are you sure? You must be hungry. Can I make you a sandwich or something first –maybe egg salad? Tuna fish?"

Nick blanched and clamped his lips together.

"Yeah, you're feeling just fine. I can tell," having made her point she went back to what she was doing.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," he grumbled and nodded toward her phone, "what are you doing there?"

"I'm searching for new ringtones," she flipped through her playlists, rejecting song after song.

"For…?"

"For everyone, but at the moment I'm looking for one for you."

"In that case," he said pulling the earphones out at the base, "I think I need to be a part of this process."

"Control freak much?" she grinned as she pulled the other ear bud out.

"I was standing next to you the last time Dov called. Clearly, you can't be trusted."

"So no One Direction for you then?" she asked innocently.

He just looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"Fine. I'm sure I can find something appropriate," she smiled, her brown eyes twinkling, "I have an excellent selection of boy bands to choose from."

"Hilarious,” he deadpanned.

“Or maybe a little something from my Disney princess collection? Oh!” she began scrolling madly, “I just thought of one for Gail!”

Attuned to her as always, he knew immediately what she was going to do. “That is a really bad idea, Andy,” he cautioned even as the familiar strains of Let It Go reached his ears.

“Relax,” Andy brushed off his concern, “It’s practically a private joke – she never calls me anyway.”

“I hope so. Because I can personally vouch for the ice queen’s wicked right hook. And we both know she is not one to ‘let it go’,” he winced as he shifted position a little trying to get comfortable, “Let’s do this. What have you got for me?”

Perhaps because she was still feeling a little cranky and irritable, Andy’s perverse side took over. "At the moment, I am kind of leaning toward this one," she clicked on a song. It only took a second for the beginning chords of the Stones' "Satisfaction" to play and only a second longer for Nick to recognize it.

"Really, McNally? You're going to go there?" he shot her a playful, smug smile, "Just because I'm SOL doesn't mean you are. I can think of at least two, no wait, three ways to prove you and your little song wrong and I won't even have to break any of Dr. Bossypants' rules to do it. In fact, I probably don't even need to get up off this couch. So, unless you would like a demonstration…" he toyed with the tie on her yoga pants to make his point.

She was sorely tempted to green light that demonstration. She knew from experience that he absolutely had the skills to back up the cocky bravado. That was precisely how he got away with it. He could also put an end to cranky and irritable in a hurry. However, she also knew that, bravado aside, he really did feel like shit and that he was destined to be frustrated for a while yet until his follow up appointment with girl wonder. So, in the interest of solidarity, she picked another song instead.

Seconds later, the cheeky pep of "Let's Hear it For the Boy!" rang out, earning a laugh from Nick.

"You're a brat.”

Andy shrugged, “You’re the one that loaded up my phone with all your 80s pop and hair bands.”

Nick rolled his eyes, “Not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment,” he said sarcastically, “but it's not exactly the manliest song around. Let's keep trying."

A couple of clicks and Bruno Mars filled the space between them. "I'd catch a grenade for ya…"

"Andy," Nick winced.

"Too on the nose?" she scrunched up her face.

"Given our jobs, maybe just a smidge. Clearly I have to take matters into my own hands," he grinned as he plucked the phone out of her hands and started flipping through the list himself. This time it was Andy’s turn to cringe as the soulful voice of Marvin Gaye purred "Let's get it on."

"Your singular devotion to one subject is truly impressive. And absolutely not." She snatched her phone back.

"Why not?" He asked, all boyish innocence. "And also? You totally started it," he gave her a little poke in the ribs.

"Because sometimes my phone rings in public, that's why, you perv," she continued scrolling, "And, let’s be clear here, you started it."

"Frankly, I'm surprised a nice girl like you even has that song in her collection." He grinned at her, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Just because I don't choose to act on ALL my basest instincts doesn't mean I can't appreciate a classic when I hear one," she paused, "Of course, if you like, there's always the sanitized version." She loaded up 'I'll Make Love to You' by the Backstreet Boys.

"Nope!" Nick took the phone back. "I thought we agreed no boy bands."

"I made no such agreement," she laughed.

"Besides, as you said, your phone rings in public sometimes and we don't want anyone thinking you actually listen to that shit." He grinned. "How about this?" Pharrell filled the air.

“Definitely not.”

“What? I don’t make you happy?” he asked in mock offense, “That’s kind of harsh.”

“Dork. You make me incredibly happy,” she flashed him one of her million dollar smiles as if to prove it, “but that song makes me crazy. Total earworm.”

“Fair point,” he conceded, “Oh here’s a good one.”

"I'm Too Sexy? Accurate. You are definitely too sexy for your own good, but no. I don't want anyone to think that I think that I’m too sexy when my phone rings."

"But you are too sexy," he trailed his fingers up to lavish attention on the smooth, taut skin across her ribs. Absently tracing the scripty words of her tattoo, he was making it nearly impossible for her to think about anything else.

She brushed his hand away and tugged her shirt back down, "Seriously Nick, a girl can only take so much," linking her fingers with his so as to keep them from causing trouble, she continued scrolling with her other hand. "How about this one?" The quick and catchy 'Lucky' played.

"Love the words…" He was absolutely in love with his best friend. However.

"I sense a but…"

"But it's Jason Mraz." He said emphatically as if that explained everything.

"And your problem with Jason Mraz is…?"

"Bearing in mind please that I have already been smacked upside the head once today…it's chick music. Next?" he decided to let her keep her phone because it hurt too much to reach with his left and his right hand was in jail.

"Chick music?" she raised one eyebrow in question.

He smirked. "Chick music. As in pertaining to, listened to exclusively by. See also Buble, Michael and Caillat, Colbie."

"Neanderthal." She rolled her eyes even as she giggled at his quick wit. "How do you feel about country? Is that manly enough for you?"

"Depends on the song," He had an idea. "May I?"

"I don't know." She held her phone out of reach looking at him skeptically.

"Come on, one more. Let me prove I'm not a Neanderthal." He wheedled, grinning widely.

"I suppose," Curiosity won out so she grudgingly handed the phone back to him.

He flipped through her list but the song he was thinking of wasn't there so he went online to find it, a couple of clicks and send ringtone to cell. Done. "What's your iTunes password? I want you to be able to listen to the whole song before you pass judgment."

"Here let me," she made a grab for her phone but he held it out of reach, grimacing as he did, "Nick be careful."

"Well, don't make me stretch so far," he whined.

"Then give me my phone."

"So, what? You trust me with your life but not your iTunes password? Really?"

"I trust you. It's just …" she hedged.

"You're blushing." Understanding dawned. "You don't want to tell me. That's okay. I'll figure it out. Let's see…" he pretended to think about it.

"Nick! You're going to get us both locked out of the account. Just let me do it."

"Relax. You get three tries. If I can't get it in two, I'll give it back and you can do it."

"So, you really don't want to tell me and you're all pink and embarrassed, so that means it's about me…" he typed in a private nickname she had for him, "And you gotta have some numbers too because really who wants to invite a lecture from Dov? " Here he stopped for a minute to think about two choices. Eventually he settled on 9957. "And…I'm in!"

"Could've been your birthday," she grumbled making a mental note to change her password first chance she got. Sometimes, having someone who knew you so well was a real pain in the ass.

"Nah, badge number is more badass." He winked at her.

"Apparently we've been wasting your skills at 15. Maybe you should be working with cybercrimes division, cracking codes and such."

"Your code is the only one I'm interested in cracking, Andy," he flipped through iTunes and quickly downloaded the song. "Okay. You listen to it but I think we may have a winner." He tapped the play button and Paul Brandt's 'Last First Kiss' began.

Nick knew you really only got one actual "first" kiss with someone but he felt like when your first kiss was fake, well mostly anyway, you were entitled to fudge the rules on these things. So their real first kiss had been at her door at the end of an otherwise awful day – no undercover pretense, no walls, just them, Nick and Andy – best friends taking a chance, a giant step toward something more and it had been, well, magical. But to him, their most meaningful first, the one he cherished above all others, had happened several weeks later. When, after an agonizing few days, she had decided he was worth it – that they were worth it – and she had gone all in and chosen him, once and for all. And, in just 36 days, not that he was counting or anything, they would stand in front of their friends and family and, eyes and hearts wide open, they would choose each other again. And that, he knew deep down, would be the last ‘first’ kiss for either of them.

As, the song finished, he pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. "So…?"

She nodded, her eyes soft. "We have a winner. And your "sweet" status has been restored." She swung her legs around and sat up, leaning into him for a kiss. "What have you got for me on your phone?”

"Well, I may have to change it now. Maybe I like this one better."

"What is it now? Dare I even ask? It's not Marvin Gaye is it?" she was skeptical.

He flipped through her library to see if he could find it. "You don't have it either. Hang on." He found it and downloaded it.

"Will I approve?" she asked, more than a little concerned.

"It's a great song. And it’s always made me think of you. You'll see why right away." He played 'Canadian Girls' by Dean Brody for her.

"Well," she said when it was finished, "I really never did watch Degrassi, but I can absolutely make a toque look sexy."

"I've seen you do it," he smirked.

"In fact, if I am not mistaken, a toque and a hockey jersey are what pass for lingerie in some provinces," she laughed, brown eyes sparkling.

"Copy that." He laughed, "And frankly, I could give a damn about the toque, but the idea of you in nothing but a hockey jersey has crossed my mind. You know. A time or two. I didn’t completely hate it,” he favoured her with a cheeky grin.

"I’m sure.” She just shook her head. "But I will keep your wishes in mind for when you're feeling better. It's not like I don't own a hockey jersey or two. Or six."

"I'm a simple man, Andy," He grinned, "But when the time comes, I think it's gonna need to be MY jersey."

"Careful. Your Neanderthal is showing again." she tucked her feet up under her and settled in, resting her head gently on his good shoulder and linking her fingers with his. He turned the TV back on, found an old rerun of Friends, and rested his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes.

"Andy?"

"Yeah, Nick?"

"Think I might be kinda hungry."


	2. Pampered Chef

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little more pointless McCollins fluff - this time with a side of Oliver because who doesn't love Oliver? Picks up about a week after chapter one left off.

"Getting close to lunchtime," Oliver commented idly as he and Andy patrolled Toronto's streets, which, so far, had been blissfully quiet.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Andy asked, grinning widely.

He nodded, "Officer McNally, I believe _we_ have earned a treat today."

"Mmmhmm. Remind me – was that when we confiscated the fireworks from the scary nine year olds or when you masterfully talked down the sorority girl about to go all Carrie Underwood on her boyfriend's truck?" She turned right onto the side street that would take them to their destination.

"Hey, Kappa Gamma was ready to throw down. That situation was fraught with danger."

Andy snorted, "Fraught with hormones more likely. She was what – like maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet? I know you've been spending a lot of time behind a desk lately but I still think you could've taken her."

Oliver sighed, "Fine. Maybe not today, but it's been a pretty crappy week. We _have_ earned it."

"Copy that," Andy agreed as she pulled the cruiser into the parking lot at Island Foods.

They made their way to the counter at the back and stood in line. "Radio's pretty quiet today – think we should risk it?" Oliver asked her.

"Well, now you've probably jinxed us. Better make it to go just in case we have to run," She pulled two grapefruit sodas out of the cooler and put them on the tray.

"Two Chicken Roti to go it is!"

"Three," Andy amended.

Oliver glanced at her eyebrows raised, "Andy, I know you've had a rough week but I don't really think eating your feelings is the best way to handle things."

"It's not for me. Obviously," she huffed.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no," he whined as understanding dawned, "It's going to stink up the squad. I _just_ got rid of the smell of vomit and Axe from that D&D at the club."

"Oh quit your bellyaching," she dismissed his concerns as she dug out some cash, "Nick finds out I was here and didn't bring him any, you know when I'll hear the end of that?"

"Tuesday?" he shot her a hopeful, cheeky grin.

"More like approximately never."

"I took a shot," he shrugged. "Anyway, he doesn't even need to know we were here. Who's going to tell him? My lips are sealed, McNally. Sealed, I tell you. "

"Yeah, because you can totally keep a secret," she scoffed. "Besides, it's curry. He'll know."

"Maybe if you two could keep your damn hands off of each other for five minutes," he muttered under his breath while he selected the necessary utensils and tossed them on the tray with a couple packets of hot sauce.

Andy rolled her eyes at his comment. She had been keeping her hands off Nick for over a week now - well not _off_ off, but mostly off, and it was frankly, driving them both a little crazy. She flashed back to that morning – he'd been perched on the bathroom counter watching her get ready for work and trying, once again, to plead his case.

" _Andy, I don't understand why you're being such a - ," he faltered looking for the right word, "a ninny about this."_

_A ninny? Was he even for real? "First of all," she started with mock seriousness as she stepped between his knees and laid her hands on his thighs, "I don't think that word means what you think it means. And second of all," she dropped a kiss on the end of his nose, "only an actual ninny uses the word ninny."_

" _First of all," he matched her cheeky tone, "it means exactly what I think it means. It's short for nincompoop, which is another word for ridiculous, which is precisely what you are being about this. And second of all," he tucked his fingers in the belt loops of her jeans tugging her closer, "you just used the word twice in the same sentence, thus proving my point." Well, and possibly hers too but if she didn't notice it, he certainly wasn't going to point it out to her._

" _Just so we're clear here," amusement twinkling in her eyes, "did you just call me a ridiculous nincompoop WHILE trying to convince me to have sex with you? And, just out of curiosity? Have you found that approach successful in the past?"_

_He resisted the urge to point out the redundancy of 'ridiculous nincompoop' and instead shrugged, one corner of his mouth twitching, "I'm a little rusty. It's been a while."_

_When she just rolled her eyes at his vaguely accusatory tone, he softened, becoming serious, "I really am fine, you know. Don't you think that I am the best judge on this matter?"_

" _I think you are the very worst judge. And, I believe your counsel on this matter," she looked pointedly at his crotch, "is far from wise and motivated by his own best interests."_

" _Very funny," he deadpanned, "It's not my first time at this particular rodeo."_

" _No it's your third – which is precisely my point, Nick. That's why y-," he leaned in and silenced her with a kiss.._

" _Please don't quote the website at me again," he pleaded. If he had to hear about the cumulative effects of concussion one more time he was going to bang his head against the wall which was frankly, counterproductive. "You know, you can't believe everything you read on the internet, right?" he offered half-heartedly._

" _Yes," she agreed sarcastically, "the Mayo clinic website is notorious for spreading gossip and lies. Look," she reached up, twining her fingers in the soft hair at his nape, "I know you think I'm being silly about this, and maybe I am," she conceded when he looked ready to argue some more, "But you scared the shit out of me, Nick. This isn't the kind of thing you can tough out and power through just because you want to. AND in just 29 days we are getting married, and I need you in tip top honeymoon shape."_

_Well. When she put it like that. "28 days. Do we have to go over this again?" he teased. "Today doesn't count."_

" _Of course it counts – it's only 7:00 am."_

" _Chloe says it's much more efficient if we just count sleeps. Which," he smirked as he considered that thought, "by my count, means we should probably just go ahead and get married next week."_

" _Best idea ever!" she grinned, "But how do you figure?"_

" _I've had a lot of naps this week. A. Lot." He pushed his bottom lip out in a pout, making her giggle._

" _Brat. Now who's being ridiculous?" she pulled his face to hers and kissed him hard. "And now, I have to go to work. Let me know how it goes," she said referring to his follow-up appointment._

" _Should I bring you a note from my doctor?" he asked jokingly, hooking his ankles together behind her knees, effectively trapping her._

" _That is an excellent idea. And Nick, I really do have to go."_

" _Relax, you've got five minutes," he slid his hand along her jaw, "And I plan to spend every last one of them making you regret turning me down."_

" _Like I don't already?" she replied, grinning, their lips touching._

"You know," she said a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she returned to the present, "Maybe we should just call Celery and let her settle this."

"You wouldn't," he protested, knowing exactly where she was going with this.

"Wouldn't what?" she asked, all feigned innocence, "Tell her about the chocolate glazed chaser you had with your kale smoothie this morning? I mean, not on purpose, of course, but it might slip out in conversation."

"We'll double bag it. I'm sure it will be fine," he backpedalled. He loved his girlfriend dearly but she was, well, a witch, and he found it best to maintain a certain healthy respect for her talents.

After paying for their goodies, they made their way to a table in the corner and dug in. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, wanting to get some food in their stomachs, as they never really did know how long they would have to eat. After a while, Oliver was the first to speak, "So, how is young Officer Collins, anyway?"

"He's alright but he's going a little stir crazy. He's under strict orders to take it easy so of course he can't sit still for five minutes."

"Yeah, I guess relaxing is not exactly soldier boy's strong suit."

"Not exactly, no. Certainly part of the problem is being forced to relax but the other part is that he really has nothing to do. I mean at the end of a long day, put a beer in his hand and a game on the TV and he can chill out like a pro, but watching TV for more than twenty minutes at a time gives him a nasty headache. So does reading or doing anything on the computer, and of course he's not allowed to do anything very active. So he's a little frustrated to say the least."

"When's his follow-up?"

"This afternoon."

"Chloe said he thought the 'girl wonder' would clear him for light duty and let him go back to work next week."

"Did he really?" Andy rolled her eyes, "Well then we can add delusional to stir crazy."

"You don't think so? Not even for light duty?" he took a long pull on his soda.

"Sure, maybe if he was going back to his job as a clerk at the Home Depot. Hopefully she'll clear him for some light exercise, but even for desk duty he's going to need at least another week – maybe two, depending on the headaches." She'd also seen him wince last night when he'd unthinkingly grabbed the milk jug with his left hand, so his shoulder wasn't exactly ready for anything strenuous either.

"So what DOES he do with himself all day?" Oliver asked.

"I'm not really sure. Takes a lot of naps. Goes for walks. Gets himself all worked up listening to sports shows on talk radio. Thinks of ways to annoy me when I get home," she finished jokingly as Oliver laughed. "Oh and he's become completely obsessed with the Food Network."

"The Food network?" Oliver raised his eyebrows, clearly skeptical, "I thought watching TV gave him a headache."

Andy shrugged as she stabbed the last piece of chicken with her fork, "I don't know. Maybe he just listens?" She hadn't stopped to question it because that part was actually working out pretty well for her. She hadn't eaten so well since she'd been the willing victim of his culinary experiments while they were undercover. "Texted me a shopping list earlier – something about making somebody's mama's marinara? I don't know, but it sounds delicious."

"Why yes, Officer McNally, since you asked so nicely, Celery and I would love to come over for dinner. You know," he leaned in and lowered his voice as if imparting a great secret, "Not many people know this about me, but I am a noted expert on Italian cuisine."

"Obviously, with a name like Shaw, how could you not be?" she challenged, grinning.

"Mock me all you want, Andy, but it's true. My people and pasta go way back," he patted his belly, making her giggle. "So, what? Say 6:00? 6:15?"

"Fine." She caved, playfully lobbing a packet of hot sauce at him which he caught easily, "But not tonight. We're off shift on Friday so let's make it tomorrow night." She had plans tonight. God. She hoped she had plans tonight.

"Tomorrow it is," he was grinning as he started piling the remnants of their meal on the tray in an unspoken signal that it was time to get back to work.

"Now," she grabbed the bag for Nick as Oliver picked up the tray, "would you like to bring the wine or the dessert?"

"We will bring the wine and you will thank me for that," he pulled open the door and waved her through ahead of him.

"Dare I ask?"

"Celery, while both delightful and delicious, has some very strange notions about what actually constitutes dessert. Trust me when I tell you, you do not want to go there."

"Good to know," she giggled making a note to tell Nick that dessert should be extra yummy. Poor Oliver. "Your people," she asked, sliding behind the wheel, "also wine experts or shall I provide you with a list of acceptable choices?"

"Hurtful, McNally. That's just plain hurtful," he faux sniffed. "Let's go."

"Okay, here we go. Keeping the world safe from sorority girls everywhere," she shot him a playful wink.

"I'm telling you Andy, she was feisty," he grinned as he adjusted the volume on his radio.

A few hours later, after an uneventful afternoon on patrol and a quick trip to the grocery store, Andy slipped in her front door. She didn't see any signs of Nick in the living room or the kitchen so she dropped her groceries on the counter and headed to the bedroom. She found him sprawled diagonally across the bed on his stomach, clearly sound asleep. She seriously considered letting him sleep, but in the end she figured he'd had enough rest in the past week and he was just too darn irresistible lying there clad in nothing but his flannel pajama pants.

She quietly slipped off her jacket and placed it on the chair in the corner before sitting carefully on the bed beside him. She reached out to stroke the soft short hair at his nape, gently massaging the muscles at the base of his scalp as she did so. Nick let out a soft groan and turned his head to the side so he could see her. "Hey," he mumbled, adorably sleepy and rumpled. "Feels nice."

"Hi." She leaned over to drop a kiss on his temple. "How're you doin'?"

"Good. Better, now you're home." He sighed under her competent fingers. "You are totally hired."

"I was not aware I had applied for a position," she grinned as she moved to her knees and straddled him so she could give him a proper massage.

"No need. You were scouted. Ranked very highly, I might add."

"Was I? In that case, I may have to reconsider my asking price."

"You do that. Meanwhile, I may have some thoughts regarding your signing bonus," he grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his chest, getting a little more comfortable. He wasn't sure why he was getting pampered but he was no dummy; he was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

"How'd it go?" she asked referring to his follow-up appointment.

He sighed heavily, "About like I expected it to."

"Really? Back to work?" she asked.

"Where did you get that idea?" he sounded as surprised as she had.

"Oliver. He said you told Chloe you expected to be cleared for light duty."

"And you believed that?" he smirked.

"Not really, I may have used the word 'delusional'"

"Nice." He rolled his eyes, "You couldn't have gone with 'wishful thinking'? Anyway, sometimes I tell Chloe what I think she needs to hear so we can skip the whole mother hen thing she's got going on."

"Nick," she scolded as her strong fingers continued to expertly manipulate the muscles and tendons in his back, "it's sweet that she worries about you."

"It's sweet for like a day and a half and then it's just kind of annoying. Also? Way too much information. Think we can get that girl a filter for Christmas?" he asked idly.

Andy snorted, "Oh come on, it's part of her charm."

"This is true," he conceded agreeably, "I'm just saying the words Dov and mountain do not belong together in the same sentence." He groaned appreciatively as she worked out a tough knot, "Seriously Andy, you ever decide to give up the glitz and glamour of 15 division, you could totally go pro at this."

"I'll keep that in mind. Now, stop avoiding the subject and tell me what the doctor said."

"She said everything looks good, keep doing what I'm doing – which is nothing – and she'll see me next week."

"Is she worried about the headaches?"

"Nope, said they're to be expected and will likely start to drop off some this week."

"And your shoulder?"

He shrugged, "It's a bone bruise – it will hurt until it doesn't. Feel free to use it but don't over do, careful with weight bearing, blah blah blah. Can we please be done talking about this now?"

"Sure," she laughed as she patted his back and lifted up a little so he could flip over under her.

"This is nice too," he winked at her.

"Don't get any ideas. I'm starving and …" she paused for dramatic effect "I brought you a treat."

He tugged her down on top of him, "What if I choose you as my treat?"

"Sadly for you, I am not on the menu at the moment," she leaned in to give him a quick kiss but Nick was ready for her. He cupped her face, holding her close, kissing her deeply and thoroughly until they were both breathless. Just as Andy was rethinking her position on the menu, her tummy rumbled loudly causing them both to burst out laughing.

"That's just not ladylike Andy," he grinned shaking his head at her.

"I TOLD you I was starving," she rolled off of him and offered her hand to pull him up, "now come on. Dinner."

As he padded along behind her he said knowingly, "My 'treat' better be some of that chicken roti you had for lunch."

"I told Oliver you would know," she threw up her hands, "I brushed and everything."

While Andy got some bowls down Nick started poking through the bags on the counter. "What's all this, babe?" There was at least three times as much stuff as he'd asked her to bring home.

"I told Oliver about your adventures in cooking and he may have invited himself over for dinner. And Celery too, of course. And I thought maybe if we made extra we could freeze some."

"Tonight?" she almost laughed at the disappointed look on his face. Apparently she wasn't the only one with plans for tonight.

"I put him off until tomorrow night. We're off shift the day after," she reminded him as she pulled last night's leftovers out of the fridge for her supper.

"Sounds good," Actually, he was looking forward to the distraction. He found the bag with his roti and dug it out. "You don't have to eat leftovers. I'll share. I don't need all of this."

"You're sweet," she patted him on the cheek, "but we both know you're going to make short work of that. Anyway, I had my fill at lunch. I'm fine with the stew from last night." She put the pot on the stove to heat it up while Nick dumped his roti into a bowl so he could nuke it.

"So tell me about Oliver and the scrappy sorority girl," he grinned, brown eyes twinkling.

"Your information is pretty good for someone who barely got dressed today." He had been lounging around the apartment in various stages of undress all week, claiming that 'it hurt' to put a shirt on. Which was probably true to some degree but she suspected his motives were not quite that pure.

"Hey, I put on a shirt and everything to go to my appointment." He held up a loaf of crusty bread from one of the shopping bags, "Is this for tomorrow or can I have some now?"

"Go ahead, we'll get fresh tomorrow."

"Anyway, maybe if Gail would let Dov drive he wouldn't have quite so much time on his hands to text his girlfriend," he tore a chunk off the end of the loaf and tucked it into his bowl.

"Easy ninja, we have knives you know. When did you talk to Chloe?"

"She brought lunch by." He shot her a sheepish smile.

"So her mother hen thing isn't all bad then."

"Not entirely, I suppose. That girl needs to learn to keep some things to herself though, or at the very least not tell me." He scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

"I'd be willing to bet that Dov would agree." Along with half of 15.

As they settled in at the table with their respective meals Nick said, "So, Oliver v. Pi Beta Phi. Details."

After they finished eating and Andy had regaled him with stories from their day on patrol, she did a quick clean up while Nick unpacked the groceries and got out everything they would need.

"Are you making it now? They're not coming until tomorrow." It's possible she wasn't entirely successful at keeping the disappointment out of her voice.

He shrugged, "It's a new recipe. Gotta make sure it works before we unleash it on company. Besides it'll be even better if it sits overnight."

"Oliver's not company, he's family." Was this payback? It felt a little like payback.

"Nice try," he shot her a knowing smirk, "Come on, if you help, it'll be quick." He pushed the cans of tomatoes towards her and handed her the can opener.

"Fine," she huffed, "But I am a silent partner in this venture. If Oliver doesn't like it, I'm totally blaming you."

He laughed as she dumped the last can of tomatoes in the pot, "Fair enough, now crush them. Gently," he said as he handed her the potato masher.

"This feels suspiciously like I am doing all the work here. Just saying."

"You were doing the heavy lifting. I can take it from here." He dropped a kiss on her neck as he put his hands on her hips and skooched her sideways. Technically, he could have done it all but if he was being honest he liked watching her fumble her way through it. She was kind of a hot mess in the kitchen and it never failed to get him going.

"Well, good then," her duties finished, she wiped her hands on the tea towel and hopped up on the counter to watch. Was it wrong that she found his proficiency in the kitchen a huge turn on? Whatever.

She watched, confused, as he chopped a few carrots and celery stalks in half and tossed them in the pot. "Umm, far be it from me to criticize your obvious culinary talents but does this sauce seem a little aggressively chunky to you?"

"Trust me," he leaned over and kissed her while he peeled an onion. Which he threw in whole. Followed by two more.

"You're not going to dice those either?" she asked, incredulous.

"Nope! Told you it was super easy," he said as he threw in a few bay leaves. He broke open the large bulb of garlic and separated a few cloves. "Peeling garlic is a great way to work out any aggression you may be feeling," he joked as he slammed the flat of his knife down on each clove.

"Anything we need to talk about?" she joked back as she removed the peels that he had loosened and threw the garlic in the pot.

"We haven't had sex in a really long time," he grinned sideways, glancing up at her without raising his head, "Want to talk about that?"

"Sure," she quipped back, "right after we discuss your gift for exaggeration."

"Season with salt and pepper," he showed her in his palm about how much he was putting in, "And we're done."

"Really? That's it?"

"Really. It needs basil, but we'll add fresh tomorrow night," he assured her. "And it needs to come up to a bubble and then we'll leave it to simmer for a bit."

She carried the now heavy pot over to the stove for him and he reached around her to turn on the burner.

She hopped back up on the counter to wait as Nick came to stand in front of her. "I could totally make this by myself," she said sounding proud of herself.

"I should hope so. Provided you can also boil water, you can make some pasta to go with it, throw in some garlic bread, maybe a salad - you've got yourself a meal."

"How long does it need to simmer?"

"At least an hour, but more is even better. So," he said stepping between her knees and putting his hands on her waist, "I think it's time to discuss your signing bonus."

"Is it now? What did you have in mind?"

He ducked his head to whisper in her ear exactly what he had in mind.

"And did you bring me a note from your doctor?" she asked only half teasing.

"Andy, I was kidding about that."

"I wasn't. Did you even ask? How do I know that it's okay?"

"Do you really think I would lie?" he asked, exasperated.

"I think you would embellish the truth if it meant you might get la-," Nick stopped her with a kiss.

"I asked girl wonder, okay. The last time I had a conversation about sex with a sixteen year old, I think I WAS sixteen, but I asked."

"She's not actually sixteen, Nick," she giggled.

"I was being generous, I suspect she might only be twelve. So awkward. But seriously, she said I'm fine to resume normal activity as long as I don't overdo it. And that's the whole sentence – not just the parts that work for me." He threw her words from the week before back at her.

"Very funny, brat," she hopped off the counter to check on the sauce. It was bubbling away so she gave it a quick stir and turned it down to low.

She turned to Nick, "So…"

"So…," he grinned, grabbing both her hands in his.

"So, correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't a signing bonus usually involve a jersey of some sort?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my lovely twitter peeps for their encouragement (aka instigation) and most especially to Ellie101 for being an excellent sounding board. If you have a minute to leave a review, I'd love to know what you thought!   
> And if anyone is interested - this was a real recipe I saw on Rachael Ray once upon a time. I have never made it myself but my friend did so I have it on good authority that it's excellent.

**Author's Note:**

> The two main songs that inspired this story are Paul Brandt's Last First Kiss (which is not to be confused with the One Direction song of the same name!) and Dean Brody's Canadian Girls. I hope you'll check them out! 
> 
> This is my first foray into McCollins (and Rookie Blue) - I'd love to know what you think! (Unless what you think is that I should be shipping McSwarek instead - because that will NEVER happen!)


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